"A fine woman shews her charms to most advantage when she seems most to conceal them. The finest bosom in nature is not so fine as what imagination forms."

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What is it that we all believe in that we cannot see or hear or feel or taste or smell — this invisible thing that heals all sorrows, reveals all lies and renews all hope? What is it that has always been and always will be, from whose bosom we all came and to which we will all return? Most call it Time. A few realize that it is God.

— Robert Brault